


Snapshots

by Jmeelee



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/pseuds/Jmeelee
Summary: Drabbles based on the prompts fromSilverFlintDailyon tumblr.





	1. Labor, Captive, Tradition pt1

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is a different drabble based off the prompts from SilverFlintDaily on tumblr. You should join in!!

“There’s no need to stand on tradition,” Flint says. “It’s just you and I here. Take your pleasure.”

Silver’s on his hands and knees, held captive between Flint’s wicked mouth and hand, both lazily working him toward completion, as if they’ve all the time in the world.

“I’m so close,” he gasps, sweat beading on his body and brow as he starts to rock back onto Flint’s wet tongue and forward into his slick fingers, laboring closer to release with every thrust.

Silver spills onto the bed, collapsing in a sweaty, sated heap. Behind him Flint whispers, “my turn now.”


	2. Labor, Captive, Tradition pt2

John’s in the foyer surrounded by a swarm of pledges, hand gripping a red solo cup and hoping tonight will change the course of his collegiate future.  James Flint, fraternity President, looms over the balcony, taking them in with a judgemental scowl. Silver is captivated by the lonely, enigmatic figure he makes.

 

“Come with me.”  Logan drags him like undertow up the stairs.  “Frat tradition!! Survive meeting Blackbeard, and you’re  _ in _ .”

 

“Holy shit,” Silver exclaims with a labored breath when he sees who's waiting for him in the dimly lit bedroom at the end of the hallway.  

 

Hazing is hell.  


	3. Past, Honesty, Travel

It takes him nearly an hour to travel the steep grade of the cliff.  It’s strenuous, but Silver makes the trek daily. Up here, on top of the world, he has no past and no future.  There is only now. Here, he can almost touch the clouds; here he is honest, in ways he can never be when his foot is on the sand.  He allows his heart to howl as loud as the whipping wind, let’s it rage as violently as the sea. He wonders what Flint would think of this hallow ground he’s consecrated with tears and regret.    


	4. Red, Fault, Drought

Six months after James last got laid he officially declares a drought. Miranda pulls out her prescription pad, signs her name in a flourish of red and stuffs the slip into his wallet.

He finds it the following morning while paying for his coffee, sees she’s written him a prescription for ‘ _sex on the regular,_ ’ and wonders who in their right mind ever awarded her a medical degree.

“Cash or credit only, Jimmy, but that does sound like _fun_.” The sexy, blue-eyed barista who always fucks up his name (on purpose, the shit) winks salaciously.

This is all Miranda’s fault.


	5. Villian, Water, Book

The home security system James installed to deter criminals had so far only picked up one thing— the maintenance guy-cum-sexy speedo wearing villian, John Silver, sneakily using his inground pool while James was at work. He’d never been more grateful for 1080p resolution than when John emerged from the deep-end, water droplets sliding down the sharp cut of his abs. He watched Silver sprawl out in James’ chaise lounge, book propped in front of his face, lazing around until twenty minutes before James was due home. Flint refused to reveal that he knew; he didn’t want to spoil the view.


	6. Story, Pistol, Rabbit

The shrill screams of a dying rabbit rip John Silver from sleep. He leaps out of bed like a shot from a pistol, heart clawing up his throat. For a few terrible seconds, before the cries are cut short and silence descends, Silver is eight years old again, hiding under his mattress, listening to—

“What is it?” A groggy voice asks, pulling him back.

“Nothing,” he lies. Flint can hear the terror in his tone, but doesn’t push. It’s a story John never tells, even after all these years.

“Come here,” Flint implores, raising the sheet in invitation.

Silver does. 


	7. Trust, Mother, Energy

“Mother of god,” Flint chokes. John hits the cursed plus sign on the treadmill, kicking the speed up a few more excruciating degrees. “Show some mercy. I’m older than you. I can’t keep up.”

“You kept up fine in the locker room shower last week,” John winks, finally pressing his finger against the stop button. “Trust me, your energy is more impressive than some of my younger clients.”

James mops up sweat with his towel. “What would it take to become your one and only client?”

John tugs him toward the gym bathroom. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! [I'm Jamie.](http://jmeelee.tumblr.com/)


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